


You Are What You... Wear?

by 00FFFF



Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Fish, Gen, Minecraft heads, Minor panic attack, Non-human hermits - Freeform, Soul Magic, Transformation, merman, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28671942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00FFFF/pseuds/00FFFF
Summary: Grian learns why you don’t wear mob heads for an extended period of time.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97
Collections: Non-human Hermits





	You Are What You... Wear?

One moment they were calling him bread, and the next they’re calling him a fish. What’s next? Grian knew he could expect just about anything, now. 

He sighed as he walked away from the Head Hunt scoreboard. Even trying to tally up all of the ‘nicknames’ he got in the short timespan of Season 7 alone seemed an impossible task.

Still, to humor them, he had put on a cod head. He’s been wearing it for the past few days straight, deciding that he’d rather own his nickname than have it be used against him. It wasn’t hard to come by, either. Grian killed many a creature and collected their soul-infused heads for Cleo’s game, which was still going on, actually. ‘Wizard Chap’ and ‘Cod Boy’ were high on the leaderboard.

“Keep wearing that head and you’ll turn into a cod!” Cleo had jokingly warned him. Grian shook his head, laughing. He knew the tales players were told when they first spawned. He never believed them. He wore chicken and salmon heads all the time in Season 6 and nothing _ever_ happened. He was just fine! Clearly those tales were just meant to trick people into being scared. 

Well, Grian wasn’t scared! Never has been! Sure, Cleo acted a bit... strange- skittish when she wore that spider head for a few days in a row, but that’s just Cleo, right? She did creepy things like that all the time. 

It’s been a little bit longer than a few days for Grian, though. In fact, he’d gone into week two of wearing his cod head mask, and didn't think he could just stop wearing it now. Hermits kept warning him about the obviously fake tales meant to scare him, and each time Grian had laughed in their faces, telling them that they just don’t like looking at such a handsome face. The hermits would laugh and back off after that, often whispering under their breath how Grian _did_ look an awful lot like a cod. Rude.

And perhaps if they hadn’t asked if he took the head off every now and again in between, he would have. But the way they worded their questions was almost like a _challenge_ to Grian, one he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Sure, the head started itching as time went on, but that was to be expected. He wanted to prove himself to them. Prove what, though? His stubbornness? Perhaps. But Grian couldn’t _not._ He was going down with this self-imposed task, one way or another. They’d have to pry this cod head off of his face personally if they wanted him to stop.

Falling asleep with the head on was surprisingly easy, too, Grian had found. It took a couple nights to get used to the feeling, but it felt like he was hardly wearing anything at all over his face by the fourth night. Grian enjoyed how much he could jumpscare the hermits by creeping up on them, only to jump in their line of sight with his strange fish-like face.

So Grian lay in bed again. Outside, of course. Sleeping inside with this jungle heat was just way too hot for him. Grian barely paid attention to the cod head anymore, sometimes even forgetting that he was wearing it at all.

Until the next morning, when he finds it gone.

Did... did he lose it in his sleep? Grian looks at the ground, trying to spot the pale brown head, but he can’t see it anywhere. Did someone take it? Did they finally decide that they’ve had enough of his shenanigans? Did they steal it so that they could turn it in for points in Cleo’s game? Oh, that’s low. That’s really, _really_ low.

Grumbling, Grian rolls out of his bed, pulling all the covers off just to see if the mask ended up tangled in them, somehow. But no such luck. He scratches his head. It feels weird, being able to do so with the mask no longer dulling his sense of touch anymore. 

Well, so much for his little nickname escapade. He’ll admit, he can get wrapped up in his ideas pretty tightly, losing focus on all other things that desperately need his attention. Grian starts making his way over to the start of his mansion, thinking. Maybe he can kill more cod for a new head? No, no, he can’t get distracted now.

Still, his mind wanders back to the mysteriously disappearing cod mask. He isn’t worried, just... confused. In fact, Grian feels quite underwhelmed by how little came of it all, seeing how much the hermits had warned him. Did someone finally cave in and take the head before anything bad could happen to him? It didn’t even have Curse of Binding on! He should have thought about that way, _way_ before. Stupid!

Grian mopes as he makes his way through the bushes, the shallow water in between Scar and his bases to his right. How... anticlimactic. This couldn’t be it. Something had to have happened, Grian thinks. 

But there’s nothing.

That is, until something _does_ happen. Itching. All over his body. Grian tenses up before he starts to scratch, watching in horror as he pulls his sleeves up and sees _scales_ growing in.

This- this has to be a nightmare. But they feel so _real._ And much to Grian’s concern, he can see them spreading, growing, pushing out of his skin at an increasingly rapid pace.

He can’t believe his eyes. He pokes at them, but the itching only grows in intensity the more scales appear. He doesn’t need to see to know that they’re growing on his legs as well.

Only when he realizes that they’re _real_ and they’re _not going away_ does it register in his mind how much it _hurts._

He scrambles away, trying to get away from it, from himself. What is he supposed to do? How did this happen? Is there even anything he _can_ do? What- this has never happened before-! Is Xisuma nearby? 

Grian can feel himself start to panic, that telltale shortness of breath accompanied with lightheadedness, and-

That’s not panic.

He can’t breathe. He actually can’t _breathe._

Doing what feels right in the spur of the moment Grian half dives and half tumbles into the shallow lake next to him. He tries to take a deep breath and swallows a gulp of water instead, before the world goes dark before his eyes.

When he comes to Grian assumes he died. It _feels_ like he did, anyway. No one can breathe underwater, he probably just drowned himself in a panic. But- Grian moves around. He’s still underwater. Floating. Breathing..?

His legs feel strange. 

It’s difficult to pull them away from each other. Grian feels nauseous when he looks down. Below his ankles, he- He switches to look at his hands, somehow being able to see clearly in the murky water.

Fins. Webbing. Scales. 

Grian can feel his breathing speed up in true panic.

This only serves to draw his attention to _how_ he’s breathing- the slits in his sides opening and closing effortlessly. Upon seeing that Grian passes out again.

The next time he comes to his legs have properly fused together. His lower half ending, blending smoothly into a brown, almost beige scaled fish tail. Grian doesn’t need to guess what _kind_ of fish.

This is how Doc became part creeper. How Ren became part dog, he realizes. Their stories weren’t fictional. It wasn’t some freak accident in a lab, it wasn’t how Ren was born at all. 

They’d actually worn mob heads for too long and got changed. Their very beings altered past the point of return.

Does that mean that Cleo is still part spider..? Grian, he- 

This is it, then. He can’t go back. His code, his _soul_ absorbed the soul that was preserved in the cod head, and now it’s a part of him. 

Player code is so malleable. It’s a wonder anybody stayed purely human in all their years. Or maybe they actually listen to the warnings they’re told, unlike him, Grian thinks.

Either way, he can’t stay in here any longer, that’s for sure. Grian drags himself out of the water, onto the muddy land next to Scar’s starter base. Did he really drift all the way over here while he was out? Grian doesn’t get the chance to think about it for a second before he’s met with the worried eyes of Scar, who reaches out for him but at the same time takes a step back. 

He hears a snort to his side, another figure slowly coming into view. Grian looks up, blinking the water out of his eyes. He’s glad to find himself able to breathe on land, still. His lower half itches as the scales retreat into his skin.

“You can’t say we didn’t warn you,” Cleo laughs, shaking her head.

They’re right. Everything within Grian is screaming to argue, but he’s tired, he’s itchy, and he’s hungry. He just had his soul fused to that of a _cod,_ of all things, so he just nods.

“Yeah, yeah. You told me so,” Grian breathes. His throat feels raw. 

Grian thinks that this was a long time coming. This _is_ his own fault, really. Guess he should have believed them. He never did. He takes a couple of deep breaths, getting used to air filling his lungs again.

“Are you okay?” Scar asks carefully, handing Grian a spare blanket to cover himself with. 

Grian conjures up a smile, and, pained as it may seem, he really is glad that he’s still somewhat okay. That his tail is splitting itself into two legs again. This... this will take some getting used to.

Grian nods. 

“I suppose you learned your lesson, hm?” Cleo says. “But just in case it still hasn’t gotten through that thick skull of yours: _don’t_ wear another head for too long again. One extra soul fused into yours is more than enough. You don’t want to mess it up any more.” She bonks Grian’s head with her fist, and then turns on her heels to go on her way. 

Scar begins to snicker in her absence. He crouches down and offers Grian a hand to stand up. Grian gladly takes it, feeling wobbly on his legs.

“Thanks, Wizard Chap,” Grian laughs as he’s led back to his hobbit hole, where Scar helps him sit down on his bed outside. Ah, the feeling of solid ground underneath his feet. It feels strange, but familiar at the same time.

“No problem, Cod Boy!” Scar winks and turns to get back to his own base. “I was about to go cod head hunting later, but... now I feel kinda bad about that...” He laughs at Grian’s ‘Hey!’ and before Grian even has the chance to get up to run after him, Scar shoots into the air, clipping a bamboo stalk as he flies off.

‘Cod Boy,’ Grian scoffs. He’s never going to get rid of that nickname _now,_ is he? Despite all his efforts, too. 

Well...

At least he won’t be called ‘Grain’ anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! This is part of a headcanon that I really wanted to explore a bit further!! Let me know what you thought?


End file.
